


The Distraction

by HostisHumaniGeneris



Series: Smutswap 2018 Fills [7]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Desperate Sex, F/M, Girl Penis, Hand Jobs, Multiple Orgasms, Offscreen Violence, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-26 01:35:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14391423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HostisHumaniGeneris/pseuds/HostisHumaniGeneris
Summary: Sherry Birkin had spent the years after Raccoon under the eye of Albert Wesker.  She'd grown in that time, and as is natural, there were changes.  However, alongside the usual changes, her exposure to the G-Virus caused some unforeseen ones as well.  Wesker is left to deal with her increased urges, as well as her altered physiology.





	The Distraction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Silex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silex/gifts).



> Written for Smutswap 2018, in response to a prompt asking for Sherry as Wesker's test subject after Raccoon, with her eventually developing intense sexual cravings which fall to Wesker to fulfill.

The scientist made excuses as he tried to keep up with Wesker’s pace.  A few security personnel made way for their employer, looking more than a bit worried.  They knew that he was very busy, he was planning important, high-risk operations, but he had to come quick because Sherry had been acting up.  They couldn’t handle it.  They never could.  That reflected poorly on the employees and management of this facility, and an accounting would be required.  The duo continued on to the elevator.

“I had important business to attend to.” Albert Wesker growled as he waited for the elevator to reach them. 

The other man, some insignificant waste of a PhD was panting.  Wesker rolled his eyes beneath his sunglasses.  The man was pathetic, and it made sense why someone like him couldn’t handle the situation.  He managed to say “Sorry sir.  But she hospitalized three security personnel who went in to... handle the situation.”

“Fire them.” That was as much a euphemism as ‘silence them’ or ‘it would be a shame if they took a turn for the worse’.  There was no way they could simply end their employment, and to his experience, guards and staff who had a bad experience while Sherry was in a mood tended to have axes to grind.

“Sir?” The man said, eyes wide as the doors slid open.  Wesker stepped in, then planted a hand against the man’s chest.

“If they couldn’t handle a hundred-pound girl, they’re obviously substandard.”

They both knew that was a lie.  Sherry Birkin got _violent_ in her moods, and when she did she was legitimately frightening.  To men.  To Wesker, she was infinitely fascinating.  The pliant, naïve little girl that somehow managed to survive Raccoon City had become something of a terror as she grew up.  It happened once she hit puberty and had only worsened over the years.  It was definitely some latent effects of the G-virus she had been exposed to while a child, and as such, was partly intriguing.

It was also inordinately frustrating, because somehow it almost always fell to him to help her work through her moods. 

“I’ll handle this.” Wesker sighed, leaving out the _because you cannot_ that he so desperately wished to add as the doors slid shut. His tone probably conveyed that opinion, though.

The ride down to the holding cells was quick, and he exited the elevator and walked down the hall, past empty cells—they’d recently cleaned out the failed experiments.  The lone occupied cell was at the end of the hall, the door flanked by a guards.  The men, in full combat gear, rifles at the ready, stood straight at attention upon seeing him.  One curtly said.  “Sir.”

If he wasn’t so busy, Wesker would’ve talked with the man, tried to determine if he was the same guard he talked to last time he got called to deal with Sherry’s behavioral problems.  But he was busy, and it really didn’t matter.  “Your presence is no longer needed here.”

A nod from the talking guard, and both were heading down the hallway to the elevator.  Both knew that when Albert Wesker was in to deal with this particular problem, that stepping away and allowing him to deal with it was for the best.  He waited until they were gone before pounding on the door and saying "Sherry?"

The response was some manic giggling, and he growled.  She knew she was dragging him away from other work, and she was laughing about it.  He repeated her name and let her know he was going to open the door.  She had best be on her best behavior.

He fished his administrator-level keycard from his pocket and swiped it through the reader.  The door beeped and slid open.  Her cell was nicer than most; since they'd first gotten her they found she responded to having a living space that was more than bare tile and fluorescent lighting.  It was actually an old vivisection room they'd cleaned up; it still held the sink, but it had been carpeted and wallpapered... at his direction; she was not going to live in an unsightly pink abomination that she requested.  There was actual furniture, an ever-increasing amount of books haphazardly piled on the shelves, and the bed was wood with a decent mattress, unlike the cheap metal cots some of the experiment cells had, and the bare tile floors the others did.  She lived as comfortably as a test subject could.

Sherry was, unlike herself, _not_ standing directly against the door when he came.  He took a step in the room and something small and white slammed into him from his peripheral vision.  She didn’t get him to budge, but she thrashed and tried to latch onto him.  They spun in the doorway, which helpfully beeped repeatedly to let everyone know that it couldn't close.  He grabbed her wrists and dragged her back fully into the medical room.  The sound of the door slamming shut and locking behind her nearly drowned out Sherry’s “Hello Albert.”

He shoved her against a nearby wall.  She smiled and bit her lower lip, a manic glint in her eyes.  The aggression was on full display this time around.  She pushed off the wall and went at him again.  She’d frequently be able to grapple with military trained security personnel almost twice her weight in muscle when she got in her moods.  She was strong for her size.

He held her at bay, although he noted that it used to be easier.  Either way, he shoved her against the wall again and pinned her there, crossing her arms on her chest and using his body weight to trap them there.  This position also left them very close, almost touching nose-to-nose. 

“Why do you have to be so difficult, Sherry?” He asked, annoyed.  She squirmed and thrashed and kicked.  They were going to have to look into some other way to regulate her urges, soon.  Because he was the only person able to come close to sating her appetites, and he frankly had better things to be doing with his time.

“Because when I’m difficult, you show up to make things better.” She managed to wrestle one of her arms free, then used it to grab a hold of his arm and pulled it, tried guide it down.  What he should’ve done was pull his arm free, and tell her, in no uncertain terms how he had better things to do than be on her beck and call to satisfy her hyperactive sexual cravings.

He let her guide his hand down.

She cooed when his hand reached the solid mass between her legs.  He gave it the throbbing organ a squeeze through the layers of thin fabric, and she shuddered. 

This, like the sexual aggression, was a result of her infection with the G-virus.  There was some scholarly debate among the researchers about what to call the organ.  Some insisted despite the growth, it was still a clitoris.  Other researchers pointed out that although Sherry had no testicles, CTs had shown bizarre findings in her pelvic region which might be consistent with seminal vesicles, and she did _secrete_ a substance with a similar chemical makeup to semen when she orgasmed.  One research suggested a vivisection and biopsy would solve the question definitively.

Wesker hadn’t allowed it.

Whatever the organ was, when she wasn’t in the mood it was a source of distress, another thing separating her from normalcy.  As if ‘normalcy’ was a thing to strive for.  Wesker had trouble understanding her need to be _banal_.  If she was feeling amorous, most of her thoughts would focus on how to service it.  Or more accurately, how to get Albert Wesker to do it for her.

She dug her thumbs into the waistband of her pants and pulled them down to mid-thigh, low enough for her member to spring up.  She looked up at him, smiling sheepishly.  He coiled his fingers around her, gripping her tight.  She bounced slightly on her feet, obviously waiting for him to service her. 

He let her wait. 

She planted her arms on his shoulders and began thrusting herself into his hand.  She began muttering his praises, as if hearing her prattle on about how great she was made up for all his time she was wasting with her behavior.  This was routine, he waited until her voice became more plaintive, her thrusts more erratic, and he let go. 

Her eyes widened and then narrowed.  She thrust against him until he pulled away, holding her at arms length.  Her voice was shaky when she said  “Don’t leave me like…”

“I was busy.  I’m _always_ busy.”  He growled, using his hands to pin her fully to the wall.  Her legs kicked ineffectually.  “I make time to visit you frequently.  I _can’t_ just drop everything to come here every time you’re in heat.  I think a nice lesson would be to leave you like this.  I don’t call my scheduled time with you short when Ms. Gionne has a crisis, now do I?  Why should I drop everything for you?”

“Albert… please” her eyes were watering.  She looked horrified.  He’d seen plenty of horrified women before, none moved him.  But maybe she had learned her lesson.   She quickly gulped and said “I promise I’ll be good next time, I’ll try to…”

She wasn't actually going to come through. It's not that she was a liar, it was that she was a slave to her biology. However, she stopped begging when he wrapped his hand around her cock and began pumping it his fist, relaxing her arms while her legs were still tensed up.  She was about average, for a man, which meant it looked ridiculous on a woman of her size.    Soon her legs slackened as she just relaxed and let him do the work.  Her breathing became labored again, and she seized and something warm and wet ran against his glove.

“There is nothing stopping you from doing this yourself” He noted dryly.  They’d tried to get her to handle her urges on her lonesome, provided her reading materials, toys, videos, and she remained obstinate.  “You won’t go blind, I assure you.”

She leaned in close, and whispered in his ear.  “Yeah, but its so much better when you do it.”

He stepped away from the wall as she stepped lightly away from it as well, not even bothering pulling her pants up, she practically walked out of them, then lifted her top off and cast it aside as well.  She looked over her shoulder expectantly.

She had almost no refractory period, for whatever reason. It might’ve been a quirk of her regeneration; she could replace damaged tissue and organs in a matter of minutes. That was another reason her desires were so hard to deal with; she needed to be physically exhausted, and not being entirely human, she was quite enduring. Might've been why she never managed to regulate her own moods; working herself over to exhaustion was not as easy as letting someone else do it for her

Wesker let out a long-suffering sigh and wiped his hand off on her comforter; it had been expensive, but now was probably suitable more for burning than sleeping on.  She rushed towards him and began undoing his belt and pants.  She bit her lower lip when his cock sprung to attention, freed from its confines.  “You’re eager for this, too.”

It was purely business.  Yes, blood flowed straight down when a naked young woman pranced in front of him, moaned for him, but this was all about getting her worn out. She was controllable when sexually exhausted, and that he was apparently the only one capable of outlasting her.  And she was far too useful to have to put down for her erratic behavior, so he kept her occupied.  When she was maudlin, he’d try to cheer her up, tell her some of the stories about her father that he was sure wouldn’t distress her… or make something up.  When she was bored he’d do his best engage her and sate her curiousity.  And when she was horny, he’d fuck her senseless.

He sat on the bed and looked up at her when she quickly bounded to him, condom on hand.  That was part of the deal; even though she was supposedly sterile, she did have a way of surprising them all. In a way it would be interesting to see what would develop from her, but on the other hand, it was a bother he was uninterested in dealing with.  She tore the wrapper off, and slid it down his cock. He always penetrated her, not the other way around. That was also part of the deal.

Then she turned around and sat down.  She liked sitting in his lap; maybe it reminded her of her childhood, he didn’t know.  That was her favorite position, and if it got things over more quickly that was fine.  She lined herself up with his cock and lowered herself down.  He was big, and she gingerly slid down to his base.

 He used to take his time, tease her.  Sometimes he still did.  But right now, he needed to get the incident over with so that he could get back to more important matters.  She lifted herself up slightly, than brought herself down.  She was wet and tight.  He let her do most of the work.  She had a little difficulty reaching her feet to the floor the floor while on top of him, but she did, and managed to grind and bounce on top of him, breathing hard and just repeating his name.

“Albert.”

He wrapped his left arm around her chest, groping her right breast, while his right hand wrapped around her member again.  It was already fully erect, and he began jerking her off while she rode him.   She moaned inarticulately while he did so.  She never lasted long, especially when being stimulated inside and out.

She came loudly calling his name, and stopped moving while she caught her breath.  He grumbled and wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up, then brought her down, again and again, and again.  She was light, it was no effort at all.  Midway through she began trying to move in time as he fucked her. Her mutterings ceased as he picked up the pace, turning into inarticulate whines that drowned out the flesh-on-flesh slapping. Her cock bobbed up and down with her. She lost the pace while he continued undaunted until she howled again. 

This repeated itself a few more times before Wesker bored of it.  Lifting Sherry up, he set her down on the bed, prying her legs wide.  She glanced up with a grin; fucking her missionary let him get in deeper, and she thought he liked it more. She coiled her legs behind him, and grinned wickedly.

He alternated between short, swift thrusts, and long, slow ones, but either way he slammed forcefully into her, and she moaned as he did.  Her hands were taking care of her cock now as he drove in harder and harder.  He didn’t keep track of how many times she came, only that sometimes there was an ear-splitting wail, sometimes there wasn’t.  She babbled on about how great he was. She mewled and howled and tried to buck her hips in time with him and was incredibly tight. Her appetites were extreme, but her cravings were a near match for his inhuman stamina. He could last long enough to exhaust her, which was well past the point most partners could.

He was silent when he came. 

She was totally limp well before then, belly coated in her cum, hair matted with sweat.  This usually would satisfy her for a while.  He pulled himself out and sat on the edge of the bed, catching his breath himself.  Eventually, he got up and deposited the condom in a trash can.  Then he went to the dresser, pulling drawers until he found the one with towels.  He wiped himself down, then went back to Sherry, wiped her cum off, and wrapped his arms around her.

It was purely a means to judge if she was sated.  If she didn’t move a muscle, didn’t moan and demand more, he took it as a good sign and exit cue.  He just had to sit and wait and observe, while she muttered about how great that was, and how she couldn’t get herself off like that.  He supposed that was true.  He leaned in and kissed the back of her neck.  Little things like this built a rapport with the woman, and ensured her cooperation during the stretches of time she wasn’t desperate for sex.

They were silent for a long while, Sherry still gone limp in his arms.  That was a good, since she didn’t constantly demand _another_ orgasm, she was well and truly spent and wouldn’t be causing trouble for a while.  She finally managed to ask “Was it good for you?”

“Of course it was, my dear.” By that he meant it was physically pleasurable to be inside her, nothing more.  He lifted her up and laid her on the bed.

“Stay with me.” She asked, looking up at him with a smile she knew wouldn’t get results.  She was, when thinking clearly, far too sentimental, he hadn’t the time to tuck her in bed.  He smiled down at her and shook her head.

She wasn’t going to be getting up for a while, so he went to the door and swiped his card.  It slid open, and she called out.  “Albert?”

He turned. 

“I… I’m sorry for always taking up your time.”  After her trysts, he was always contrite.  This was routine.  “I… thank you for your help.”

“Anytime, my dear.”

* * *

The scientist who had escorted him to the elevator was waiting for him when he came up.  He looked paler than Wesker remembered, and he braced himself for another annoyance.  “Um… Mr. Wesker, I was thinking…”

“Walk with me.” Wesker said, entering the same brisk pace he used when he entered the facility.  Hopefully the idiot would give up.

Undaunted, he tried walking, talking, and gasping for air at the same time.  He babbled on and on, about how this was the third incident this year, and how her behavior was getting out of control. Wesker agreed with this—they did need to find some alternate solution for her behavior.  She was dangerous when she was in her moods.  Wesker agreed with this—however, the staff on hand was aware, and should have been practicing the proper precautions while on duty.  She should be euthanized.

That sopped him in his tracks.  He didn’t agree with that.

“Sir, we have a procedure for dangerous B.O.W.s that we can’t learn anything else from.” The scientist said.  “We’ve gotten the G-Virus from her blood, and have compiled medical data for years, but realistically, she’s a dead end.  Aside from her genitals and regenerative abilities, she’s unremarkable, and with regards to regeneration we can try inducing that in other test subjects.”

He continue laying out a clear, concise, and detailed summary.  There was not much more to be gleaned from Sherry Birkin; she could continue to be used for G-Virus tissue samples, but they had plenty of those, and could simply infect a new carrier to get more.  Aside from biopsy, there wasn’t much more to learn from her, so it was pointless keeping her around.  And with her behavioral problems, it was clear they only had one choice in the matter.  Doctor Jeffords, Ashe, and White all agreed.  Doctor Yousef was the only holdout.

Wesker nodded, clasped the man on the shoulder, and said he’d take it under advisement. 

The man led him to the exit, where he turned around.  Wesker glanced at the two guards, rifles at the ready.  Maybe they were the guards from Sherry’s cell.  Maybe not.  It didn’t matter, they were all interchangeable, and more importantly, owed their loyalty to Wesker, not to the staff on site.  He walked over and nodded.  “Tell me, who was I talking to again?”

“Administrator Hughes.”  Ah, that’s right, he was the new administrator.  Appointed after the last one who suggested vivisecting Sherry.  Wesker nodded.

“I want him, Jeffords, Ashe, and White dead.  Security Risks.” ‘Security Risks’ was the catchall pretext for an annoyance in the staff. 

“And Doctor Yousef?” One guard said, the glint in his eye telling Wesker he was eager to please his employer.

“She’s this facility’s new administrator…” Wesker paused.  “…as such, I leave the others’ fate up to her; let her know she can have them shot or she can use them. I noticed your facility does not appear to have any active experiments aside from the special project.”

Sherry ate up a lot of his time. Between his scheduled engagements where he took her on walks, talked about Raccoon in rose-colored lies, and tried to accommodate her within reason, and having to come on short notice to satisfy her urges, he was surprised he got anything else done. But as the guards filed past him to carry out his orders, he mused that maybe she was worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually had this started at the very opening of the writing period, but was stalled on it for the longest time. I had a burst of inspiration at the last minute earlier this week and managed to get it written. The request was pretty unique and it's somewhat of a stretch for me (I never really put much thought into the dynamic between these two characters, though I've done things with both), so let me know what you think.


End file.
